Run
by sjam0013
Summary: A kid surviving on her own in the apocalypse? Hard but not impossible. For Andy Rudd, you just got to have the brains, the brawn, the weapons and the never ending forceful optimism to survive and you'll be good for a day.
1. Lost and Found

Hi! So this is the result of my endless daydreams in between watching TWD! Please bear with me as we delve into my crazy take on the show. Also, I decided to go write using he third person omniscient. However, I'll label it along the way whose perspective it is since I don't know how to put transitions in between changes :(

Also, please take the time to rate and review guys! It'll mean so much to me!

Constructive criticisms are also very much well appreciated! I mean, it'll hurt, but hey, it'll help me improve my writing! So, we're good! *thumbs up*

**_(DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE WALKING DEAD.)_**

* * *

**_-Andy Rudd-_**

_I always loved the whirring noise of saw against wood from the shed outside the house. It meant dad was home and that it was Friday and no school for tomorrow!_

_Then, I also loved the soft hum of an untitled upbeat song somewhere in the house. It meant mom was in a good mood and good mood was what I needed that moment. _

_ "__Mom?" I asked as I crept towards the kitchen. She was by the sink and had her back towards me, body slightly swaying to the beat. _

_ '__Good,' I thought._

_ "__Yeah kiddo?" she asked. I made my way to the kitchen island and sat there. It took me a few seconds to gather my courage._

_ "__I got scolded," I blurted out._

_ "__What?" she said with a surprised tone as she faced me with furrowed eyebrows. "Why?"_

_I could tell she wasn't angry but still, I couldn't dare face her. When I saw her approaching, I just dropped my head down and down, not losing focus on my fidgety hands._

_ "__They were talking about the birds and the bees," I muttered. "I just told the class the truth. I got scolded."_

_When there was silence, I ready myself for a lecture as I closed my eyes tighter than usual. However, that never came and instead a chuckle echoed across the room. _

_Before I knew it, I felt her hands against my two cheeks as she raised it to meet her smiling face._

_ "__You're smart Andy," she said. "Don't ever be sorry for that."_

_I was about to smile back when I saw her expression changed. Furrowed eyebrows, hallowed eyes and cheeks- the remnants of hunger and terror, disheveled hair, tattered clothes… I could feel the fear bubbling inside. Her fingers dug through my skin and as she got closer the foul stench of rotting flesh made me want to puke. _

_ '__Mom! Let go! Let go!' _

_I wanted to shout, I wanted to move but no matter what I just stood there transfixed at the sight of her. _

_ "__Murderer," she whispered against my ear then she began shaking me till I was out of my seat. _

_ "__Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!"_

* * *

"Ha," Andy gasped as she was jolted awake from another nightmare. Apparently, it was the same from the nights before but this one was more vivid than usual. And it shook her…literally.

The vibrations ran through her body and it took her a moment to finally hear the snarling sounds of roamers from below. When she realized what was happening, she tightly hugged the tree trunk she was just leaning earlier.

It was a herd of the undead and fortunately she had a knack for sleeping on canopies rather than on the ground because if it hadn't been that way, she would be as well with them right now, either hungry for fresh meat or be the fresh meat. The thought made her cringe either way.

They were bumping against the tree she was on and she tried her best not to utter a sound. If she were to fall right now, she would be just dangling since she was smart enough to tie herself to the trunk. But still, she would be a hanging food and then she would be trapped. Hell knows what would happen next.

When the storm had passed and the last of them was out of sight, she unbuckled herself from the safety rope. She removed the rifle slung around her shoulder and tied it with a rope by its muzzle. When it had reached the ground, she threw her knapsack first and then herself with a thud. It wasn't that long of a jump but her knees buckled with the sharp pain in her leg.

"God," she grumbled as she stood up, limping to get to her gear.

However, just as she thought everything was safe, a roamer jumped on her out of nowhere. With her obviously child body structure, she was immediately tackled to the ground.

Its mouth was barely a few centimeters away and the only thing stopping it from eating her was her bare strength she ushered through her meager hands.

She was beginning to lose hope but then she remembered how to use her legs.

Andy kicked it and barely crawled away before it could even reached for her leg. Fumbling through her belt, she grasped the knife by its handle. By the time it tried to get her again, she was fast enough to stab it through the skull, went for the brain for a sure kill.

She huffed out a breath, adrenaline rush still coursing through her body. The blade was still embedded deep into its head and the blood kept oozing out. It was brutal but then again she was no stranger to the scene.

Andy pulled out the knife and wiped the residue of blood on its plaid shirt. Instead of the supposedly normal customs of feeling guilty after killing, she felt nothing rather than the sense of finishing another daily routine.

Yes, that was it. Killing nowadays was just another daily routine.

She got up and took her gear from where she had left it before. As she shifted everything to a more comfortable position- knife in her belt, rifle slung around her shoulder, knapsack against her back- she was ready to go.

With a last glance at the biter, she took off with a slight bounce in her steps. She just survived an nth time near death experience after all. A new day and she was still alive? That was more she can bargain for. Besides, killing the walker so early in the morning was a good sign she was going to survive the rest of the day.

"Yep, this is going to be a good day," she mumbled to herself with the hopes of keeping her optimism up.

Well, she had to. It was the only thing keeping her together beyond everything after all.

* * *

Judging from the angle of the sunlight and the hot temperature, she would have guessed it was already late morning. For the past hours she was left wandering, it had been quiet- too quiet to her own liking anyways. To her, it could mean two things. It could either mean she's the only living left on earth or there was danger lurking ahead. Either ways, she didn't want that. Moreover, she has a slight tendency to put down her defenses in these times which she didn't like either.

So, when she heard the rumbling of a vehicle from behind her and moving in fast, she couldn't be more happy and confused and afraid at the same time. Happy because there were still others left, confused because there were humans in the area and afraid because they were humans.

It was a two vehicle convoy: a pickup truck and a bike. I squint my eyes trying to get a clearer vision on the man riding the bike. He was wearing a poncho and had that rugged kind of look. But the one thing that made him more intimidating was the crossbow hung around his body.

When they stopped a few meters away, by instinct, she immediately stepped back and held tight on her gun.

_'Fight the dead, fear the living,'_ she thought with furrowed eyebrows.

Then the man from the pickup truck got out. He was an Asian guy probably in his mid 20's and carrying a pistol. But despite that, he looked friendly enough. Well, the kind of friendly that isn't psycho anyways.

_'But maybe they're good people. I have a gun, I have a gun. I can shoot them if they try anything,'_ she thought.

"You got point?" the Asian guy asked the other man.

"Yeah, I got it," he replied while he shifted his crossbow in his hands.

She held her gun in return, slowly tracing towards the trigger. If he were going to shoot her then at least she was prepared to retaliate. Well, that is if the arrow won't reach her first.

When he let his weapon hang on his side, she let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding as she relaxed on her grip. Well, at least he didn't mean harm. For now, at least.

"Jus' you out 'ere?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied with a nod.

The two men looked at each other. Their faces were void of emotion so it was hard for Andy to figure out their thoughts. However, when it came to times like this, it was almost and usually pity. She hated the feeling. It doesn't reinforce hope. But the worst is how it reminded her of all her shortcomings and undesirable position. It was a dead-end emotion.

Nevertheless, she stood upright and waited for them to get it over with.

"How long's it been like that for?" he asked again.

"I don't know. I was with one group and another one after that."

"They din't make it? Neither one of 'em?"

Andy let out a small shake of the head- a no and at the same time getting rid of the memories trying to crawl into her mind, vivid images like it was yesterday.

"What's your name?" the Asian man asked softly and with a smile as they paced forward to meet her. "I'm Glenn by the ways and this guy here is Daryl."

She nodded in return.

"Andy. I'm Andy Rudd."

"Well, Andy, we have a camp—"

"How many walkers you've killed?" the guy named Daryl interrupted.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows while Glenn looked at him like he was absurd. But from the way she saw things, apparently, he was dead serious about his question. She liked it.

"She's just a kid," she could hear Glenn whisper to Daryl.

"Haven't kept count," Andy replied with a shrug. "A couple dozen?"

Daryl looked on with a passive face.

"How many people you kill?" he asked with a straight face.

I squint my eyes at him. It was too invasive of a question but still it meant he sees her as an adult, not a child. That was good enough for her.

"I can't believe you," Glenn scoffed under his breath. "Daryl, I don't think these questions applies to a child-"

"1," she interrupted. Caught completely off guard, she looked at them staring at her with furrowed eyebrows.

_'Better they know it beforehand,'_ she inwardly sighed, fighting off the guilt she felt with her confession.

"Why?" Daryl asked, cutting her off from her silent monologue.

"He asked me to," she sighed.

The rustling of the trees, the sound of the birds and cicadas chirping took over the awkward silence that followed.

"Want to come with us?"

Maybe trust wasn't completely there but the offer was too tempting to resist. The word _'camp'_ these days was quickly associated with food, security, people and the fragile promise of survival. What was ambrosia to the gods was this little flame of hope for a home in a messed up world filled with the undead.

"Yes," she answered without even batting an eyelid. "Yes I do."

It was for a second but she certainly saw Daryl smirked before heading back to his own ride.

"You go ride with Glenn," he called out. "He's got more room for that big pack of yours."

"Come on," Glenn chuckled as he cocked his head towards the pickup.

* * *

**Yay! Chapter 2, yeah? :D **


	2. Newcomer

**Hi! I am sorry for the delay :( Training + Thesis + that last episode was just too much too handle! I still crii thinking about it T_T**

**But anyways, thank you for reviewing and putting the story in your favorites! It meant a lot to me! :')**

* * *

_**-Carl Grimes-**_

These past few months had been quite peaceful aside from the insistent snarling of walkers outside that is. There were no deaths, no trouble with other humans and an abundant supply of food and water. Everyone had their own tasks even with the Woodbury folks. The whole chain of progress had everybody fall back into a routine that even Carl knew where his father would be every morning.

"You didn't wake me up," Carl called out as he made his way towards the prison's makeshift farming field.

"Cause I knew you were up all night reading comics with a flashlight," Rick replied as he met him halfway. He gave off a light chuckle in return.

"What's up with Violet?" he asked, noticing the animal's frail state.

"Carl, I told you not to name them," his father chastised. "They're- they're not piglets anymore. They're food."

"I just thought, you know, until…" he said and tried to make a stand but he knew his father was right. There was no use in naming animals when you know of their ill-fated death. In the end, he just sighed and faced the ground at the thought. "Okay."

"I don't know what's going on with her," Rick groaned. "Could be sick, could be nothing…"

Then in an effort to wake the animal up, he heard his father made rapid _tsk_ sounds with his mouth. When he saw they didn't budge, Rick sighed in frustration.

"Feel better," he started then looked at him with an unknowing smile. "Violet."

He smiled back. It was times like these that made him feel like a child again and made him forget the dead beyond the gates.

Yes, it was times like these that farming wasn't so bad.

"Come on, let's get to it," he heard his father say but when he was about to follow him towards the row of turnips, the distant roar of vehicles stopped them in their tracks. The two of them looked at the distance with wary faces.

They could be anyone and anyone other than those inside the camp posed as a threat- the Governor high up on that list. However, as soon as they saw the pickup and the motorbike into scene, they eventually let out a sigh of relief.

"They're back," he said.

"Yeah, let's go," Rick said as he led him by the shoulder and ran to the entrance.

* * *

As he got hold of the inner fence, their third mode of defense by the entrance- first the spikes followed by their improvised gate- the vehicles breezed in through the opening with Daryl on lead. However, while his father got busy with the ropes, he did a double take on a bundle of figure sitting at the back of the pickup Glenn was driving.

His instincts told him to immediately tell his father about the possibly dangerous hitchhiking man. But as he squint his eyes and with the wind blowing away the scarf that was loosely wrapped around the stranger's head- only then did he know that he's a she. Not that being a girl meant no harm but her little figure tells him that she's of the same age.

She had long brunette hair and wore a tattered shirt and although her peaceful sleeping face depicts her at her most defenseless state, the way she held her rifle at her side showed otherwise.

For the most part, he really thought she looked cool.

"Who's that?" he finally asked.

Rick turned around to see the 'that' in question. Carl could see the crease forming in between his forehead.

"Well, we got to find out about that," he mumbled as he straightened his back and got a move on to the parked vehicles.

* * *

_**-Andy Rudd-**_

Despite protests from Glenn, she stood firm on her decision about staying at the back of the pickup. Aside from the fact that it offered her more room for escape when things get sour, she really liked the feel of wind touching against her skin and seeing the apparent silhouettes from the branching leaves above through her closed eyes. The feeling had always and never fails in caressing her to sleep.

However, she felt the sanctuary of her little nap crumbled as she felt the car halt to a stop. She slowly opened her eyes but was regrettably greeted with the blinding sunlight. Then as her eyes wander to what was in front, only then did she saw the man fast approaching her direction. He looked serious and only then did it struck her the realization that this was a den of possible psycho strangers ready to kill a girl in the midst of the day. The thought made her panic and just like her limbs had a mind of its own, she unknowingly stood up and pointed the gun at the man.

"Woah, woah, woah," simultaneous voices echoed around her.

The man in front of her had a hand up while the other protectively snaked around his back.

_'A boy?'_

"Calm down, little girl, we're not going to hurt you," he said.

"Hey, hey, Andy, chill," she could hear Glenn gave out a panic cry. "They're with us."

It took her a few seconds to forcefully calm herself down. Once she felt the adrenaline rush slowly fading out of her system, only then did she lower her gun.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with a slight bow of the head.

When no one said anything, her eyes shifted towards a clearer look of the place. She found herself completely surrounded by tall fences with walkers banging on the front step. But despite the ugly scenery, the little garden they had going and the squealing of pigs all made up for it. For her, it showed hope of what's more to life than just breathing and escaping death from the dead. But most importantly, it reminded her of the good old days.

She then was cut off from her reverie when Daryl suddenly pulled her out from the truck.

"Hey!" she shrieked out of surprise.

"Calm down hot head," Daryl muttered as he put her down on the ground with a soft thud.

"What happened?" she heard the guy asked. There was authority in his voice and if she were to make a guess, she would say that the man was the leader of the group.

As she looked ahead, she saw the boy stepping out from behind the man. He was donning on a sheriff's hat and was looking at her with his tantalizing blue eyes. He didn't talk nor smiled and when things got a bit awkward for Andy, she looked away first but not without the nagging feeling that he was still staring.

"Found 'er alone in the road," Daryl replied. "Camp got overrun."

The other man then shifted his attention on her.

"And you made it out alone?" the guy asked, half-surprised and half- skeptical. Well, at least it sounded like that to her.

"That or die," she replied with a shrug.

He nodded in response, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

"I'm Rick," he said.

"I'm Andy," she replied with a weak smile.

Rick returned the smile but then looked at Daryl then at Glenn. They nodded in silent agreement. What kind of agreement, she wished to know and fast.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at the three adults with caution.

"Well, Andy," Rick grunted as he leaned down and put a hand on her shoulder. "You're going to be safe here with us. And I know you don't trust us yet but—"

_'__Ah,'_ she thought, fully realizing where the situation was headed.

"It's mutual and you'll confiscate my gun for that," she said matter-of-factly.

"Not confiscate," he sighed. "I'd say safekeeping. For now. I hope you understand."

She looked into his eyes and was expecting some sign of an underlying lie but she found none.

"I understand," she sighed as she unslung her gun and handed it to him. As he took the rifle from her hands, she stopped him midway and looked at him with a stern face.

"For now," she said.

"I promise," he replied with a nod. Though she knew promises were meant to be broken one way or another, she trusted her guts and took his word for it.

"Okay," she smiled as she fully let go of the weapon.

"Thank you," he replied. "Daryl will take you to your cell. That okay with you?"

"Yeah," she replied as she shifted the bag on her shoulder.

"Follow me," Daryl said and tilted his head towards the building. It was huge and a little stale but what weren't these days?

As they paced towards establishment, only then did she saw the towers looming over the area and a couple of warning signs placed on the fences. It took her a moment to realize that, yes, she was voluntarily going to prison. She gave in to a small chuckle.

"What?" Daryl asked as he took a glimpse at her.

"Nothing," she quickly replied with a shake of her head. But as she did so, she unintentionally glanced behind her only to be met again by the boy's never ending stare.

_'God, what's his problem,'_ she thought as she broke their gaze for the second time around that day.

* * *

_**-Carl Grimes-**_

His problem was how she held the gun at them with cold-blooded eyes. Maybe he was thinking too much about it but ever since then, he decided that he shouldn't or rather didn't trust her.

She was strong. There was no doubt about that. Being out there for so long definitely forced you to be one. However, he knew that she had to have faced demons along the way- the ones that were there to stay and twist you to a person befitted to the brutality. Child or not, he wouldn't take the chance of the things she can possibly do.

So, as the week had gone by, he'd finally found the perfect chance to know more about her. As he saw her and Daryl by the fences, busy poking one walker and the other with a knife to the head, he immediately turned around and made his way to the neighboring cellblock.

Fortunately for him, mostly everybody was outside and the others left were either adamant to his presence or too busy sleeping in their own quarters. Basically, it was an easy in without getting suspicion.

Though, apparently, his constant stolen glances at her proved to have left something important. _'Which cell was hers?'_\- That was the question now. Everything was identical, from the bunk to the tables to the striped sheets. But when he saw an all familiar backpack lying on the floor, he quickly got inside without a word.

He searched under the bed then on her desk- nothing. Apparently, he was so sure he was going to find something that he didn't think it through what he would do when he found nothing. Go back, yes, but he was still sold out on the idea that this girl was danger.

Then, he shifted his gaze at the pack by his feet. It was big.

Come to think of it, it was too big for just a handful of clothes and basic day-to-day survival kit.

And even if she were the Girl Scout and the unconventional fashionista, which her current demeanor says otherwise, wouldn't it be too much of a hassle to carry a bag almost twice her size and with a gun weighing pounds while running away from walkers?

Restraining himself from any more complicated thoughts, he started unzipping the bag and dug through the inside as cautiously as he can. He felt cotton and more cotton- _'Are these all clothes? Seriously?'- _then finally the feel of cardboard...

"Carl?"

* * *

**Sorry this was short! Honestly, I'm making this up as I write so, deng, I don't even know where this is headed HAHAHA :D Chapter 3, yeah?**

P.S I edited this one so if there are still mistakes left, please let me know :)


	3. Friends or Foes?

It's been a long time! Thank you for everybody who has gone this far despite the crappy writing! I still have a lot in mind for the story so I hope you'll still be there to read it!

Also, it's almost Christmas! Yay! With that, I humbly ask for your reviews! I'm a review-whore apparently and as human as I can get, they keep me motivated and would definitely make me the happiest person in the world! No kidding! :)

_**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE WALKING DEAD OR CHANDLER RIGGS.**_

* * *

**-Carl Grimes-**

"Carl?"

He immediately stiffened at the sound of the voice. When he peeked over his shoulder, he saw Patrick standing by the door- seemingly a silhouette due to the light passing through the windows from outside.

"What are you doing here?" Patrick asked.

"I—" he stammered, looking everywhere except at his eyes.

"Were you… stealing?"

He immediately shot up his face and saw Patrick's eyes widened through his eyeglasses.

"N-no!" he shouted and, without even thinking about it, just grabbed the last thing he could get his hands on. He then stood up.

"Andy sent me looking for this!" He added as he handed him a box- a box of sanitary napkin. He widened his eyes in realization.

Fortunately, Patrick was occupied with the box in his hand to even bother the shocked expression he had on his face.

"Oooh, that time of the month, huh?" he muttered.

Carl cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he said, trying to act as cool as possible while he hid the box inside his jacket.

"But I didn't know you were friends. I hardly see you two speak."

"Ahhh, w-we're friends," he stammered and walked past him. "Different cellblocks remember?"

"But you always talk to me," Patrick said as he followed after him. "Sometimes with Lizzie or Mika."

"It only has been a week, Patrick. Besides, she's always with Daryl." True. It only has been a week but it seemed that Daryl grew a new set of tail. May it be on watch or having a supposed-to-be alone siesta time- she was always there on bay.

There were already outside when Carl noticed that Patrick wasn't going anywhere.

"Where are you going anyways?" Carl asked.

"Coming with you," Patrick said nonchalantly. "I want to talk to her."

He knew that it would be trouble for him if the two meets each other. Patrick needed to go away and for how- his mind was racing for a way out.

"About what? Maybe I can just relay it to her."

"No, no it's just that I want to continue where we left off yesterday."

He looked at him in confusion.

"No, no. Not what you're thinking! We just had a debate about black holes that's all."

"Black holes?" Carl asked.

"Yep. She can be pretty convincing!"

Carl got preoccupied with Patrick's enthusiasm that he didn't even notice the group standing a few steps away.

"Speaking of," Patrick muttered as he transitioned into a smile.

His father was talking to Daryl while Andy stood from the sidelines not too faraway.

"Andy! Carl's got what you needed!"

"Patrick!" Carl muttered under his breath.

He watched her looked at Patrick with a puzzled face. She then turned her attention at him. In turn, he pursed his lips under her questioning gaze.

"You sent him to your room right? To get, you know…"

Carl noticed a twitch in her face.

"Carl?" Rick asked as he looked at him.

"Well, I think its kind of awkward to say it out loud," Patrick said.

He shifted in his place for he was never a good liar and Patrick was unknowingly putting him deeper in a difficult situation.

_Sanitary napkins! He was going to say he stole sanitary napkins in front of his father! _

"Ah, did you get it?" he heard her ask all of a sudden as she walked towards his direction. He looked at her in question.

"I remember now. Come," she added, pulling him away in the opposite direction. Patrick was about to go along with them but Andy was fast enough to emit her obvious annoyance.

"Stay."

"What-" Patrick began but they were already gone around the corner.

"Andy," he muttered.

They were walking for about five minutes already. She was pulling him still as they passed through similar stale-colored fences and although her grip wasn't tight- hurt tight; it was a firm grip nonetheless.

"Andy—"

"What were you doing in my cell, Carl?" she interrupted.

He rushed for an excuse but when he couldn't find one in time, she turned around to face him instead.

"What did you take?"

He met her seemingly innocent blue eyes now casted in a mixture of contained anger and fear.

"You're hiding something." She slowly knit her eyebrows.

"That's none of your concern," she answered.

"It is when it comes to everybody."

The confusion marked on her face gently took away the creases between her eyebrows.

"Tell me how then," she said while crossing her arms over her chest. "Tell me how prying through my stuff helps everybody."

"I don't know you. We don't know you. You've been out there all by yourself. Who knows what it had done to you cause it certainly got the worst of me even with everybody here."

"So you think that with what I've been through I'd just break down and go psycho?"

His silence was his answer.

"Well, it certainly got the worst of me too alright? Thank you for your concern," she said sarcastically. "But just like everybody else around here, I'm keeping my shit together. You don't trust me? Fine. 'Cause it just so happens I don't trust me either. But for the record, even with you being the leader's son and I understand your need to keep this camp safe, that doesn't give you the right to go through my things. _Capisce_?"

"_Capisce_?"

"Get it?" she iterated.

He slowly nodded his head in understanding. Patrick was right. She can be pretty convincing.

"So what did you get from my bag?"

Well, at least he thought she was pretty convincing enough to make him forget about that.

"I'd like to have it back now," she said as she reached out a hand.

"I'll bring it back to your room later," he said.

"What? Why? It's in your jacket."

True enough, when he looked down at his jacket, it was obvious that an unknowing box of sanitary napkins resides in it. He rolled his eyes in frustration as he took it from his pocket.

"Here," he muttered while trying to cover the box at the last possible touchdown. When it did, he could almost feel her eyes widen as big as it can.

He rolled his eyes again. Killing walkers was probably easier than having to face awkward girly things.

"God, Grimes," she chuckled. "I'm annoyed. I'm supposed to be annoyed. But this—"

She was laughing at him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes again and just walked past her instead.

"Carl!" he heard her shout and when he stopped to turn around, he saw her barely stifling a smile.

"Here," she added as she threw him a pack. "I AM willing to share."

He squints his eyes at her while shaking his head in annoyance.

"Seriously," he scoffed but still managed to put it in his pocket as he continued to walk away.

Whatever use he might have for it, he doesn't know as long as it doesn't involved blood and any other witnesses.

* * *

_**-Andy Rudd-**_

The smile on her face quickly disappeared as fast as Carl made her laugh with his little incident. And once she was sure that he was off a good distance away, she quickly made her way towards her cell.

'_He didn't see it, right? He couldn't have. I wrapped it in layers of clothing. He couldn't have.'_

Apparently, she had been too deep in her thoughts that it was too late when she realized that she just bumped into someone.

"Rick!" she said with a start.

"You okay?" Rick chuckled while putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Just got something on my mind is all," she said with a small laugh.

"Daryl?" she added when she couldn't find the man he was talking to earlier.

"Yeah, they just went out for a short run."

"Oh, okay. Well, I better go then," she said as she began to walk ahead.

"Oh and Andy," Rick called out all of a sudden. She turned around to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" she let out a confused smile.

"For being Carl's friend. I mean, I didn't know you were until earlier though," he chuckled as he shifted in his place.

She didn't know what to say to that since she and Carl just had a real conversation earlier. As she stood there, silent, he then looked at her with a serious demeanor.

"Being with adults for so long, it changes things. Patrick, you… I hope it changes things with him."

And for the first time in a very long time, she felt jealous.

She didn't know what Carl- what they had gone through before she had been there. But she was sure that it wasn't that different from hers.

Yet Carl still had someone to be there- to watch out for him and as much as possible keep him to be the child he was meant to be.

"Okay," she could only reply with a wistful grin before walking ahead first.

'Maybe Daryl could be my substitute father for the rest of my apocalyptic days,' she smiled at the thought.

* * *

"Ugh," she grunted as she placed the pack on top of her bed. How she had survived for the past months with such a heavy luggage was still a mystery to her. She dug deep inside and came to feel the seemingly untouched layers of fabric.

"Thank God it's still here," she muttered under her breath.

When she took it out and unwrapped the sheets, the sight of a wooden box no bigger than her forearm gave her more relief if that was even possible. More so when she saw the lock still unhinged from its place.

And it should stay that way until the right time comes.

As his father had told her, with humankind's deceit, selfishness and an utmost desperation to escape from the dead- it was a Pandora's box.

And she wasn't planning on becoming Pandora any moment soon.

* * *

**Please review guys :) There's still a lot of editing and loopholes but yeaaah, it's the holidays! **

**Also, I've edited the other chapters and this one so please let me know if there are still mistakes left. **


	4. Midnight Woes

Happy New Year everyone! So here's chapter 4. I hope you like it! Also, I decided to take in the suggestion of a review made by a guest user (i do hope i know your name/username :( hope to hear more from you whoever you are! ) :)

Please share me your thoughts! I would love to hear them! :)

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Walking Dead.**

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_**-Andy Rudd-**_

Years into the apocalypse and it was inevitable not to get used to a lot of things.

Sleeping in unconventional places? Yes.

Seldom baths? Yes.

Walkers? Yes.

Killing walkers? Yes.

Mosquitoes? Not one second. She hated every single one of them. Unlike walkers, they were small to kill and irritating and by irritating it meant can't-sleep kind of irritating.

"God," she muttered as she rolled yet again in her bed. Each slap with her hand against skin echoed across the silence of the place.

In a desperate attempt to ward off the little pests, she made use of the bed sheet and covered her legs but then they just came for her face. She tried covering her face too but it felt like she would suffocate from the heat.

"Come on!" she groaned under her breath as she sat right up. She knew she wasn't going to get any sleep soon so if she was going to get bitten by mosquitoes for the rest of the night, she'd have to be in a state where she was utterly tired to the point of no care.

So, without a moment's notice, she stood up and grabbed nothing but her knife while heading out into the night.

* * *

It already have been minutes since she wandered aimlessly across the prison's front yard with only the moonlight as her flashlight. It was quiet. Not quiet _quiet_ but the low growl of walkers outside the fence was nothing but normal background noise now like how normal it is to hear cricket sounds along with it.

When she happened to look up, the billions of stars splayed out across the night sky took her breathless. It was one thing to look at it before but without all the lights from the cities, homes… it was on another level of beauty.

"That's beautiful," she sighed.

"'Ey."

She literally jumped at the voice so when she turned around she was relieved to find Daryl walking her way.

"Don't do that. I thought you were a walker."

"Do walkers talk?" he teased her with a smirk. "What are you doing out here anyway? In the dark even. If Glenn or Maggie were to see you up there," he paused while gesturing for the prison tower not far away. "They would 'ave shot you."

"And you too. So we're even. Besides, they're probably busy anyways," she chuckled.

He squints his eyes at her.

"What?" she giggled and just gave him a shrug. "I meant talking or singing."

"I'm gonna peg that as what you actually meant," he said and then walked past her.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she asked as she followed him.

"Jus' going to blow off steam. You should go back hot head."

"I'm not going back yet."

"What are you doing out 'ere anyways? You planning on running away?"

"Uh, no. Mosquitoes. Can't sleep."

"Need to get you a repellent in the next run then."

"That'll be good but it's not necessary—" she stopped in her tracks when Daryl stopped to face her.

"Go back," he said with a stern face.

It was only then she realized the incessant loud snarling noises and the clanging of metal. When she looked beyond his shoulders, they were by the outer fence and then and there she knew he was going to go kill walkers in the middle of the night.

"Okay," she nodded her head in understanding. "I'll help."

"Don't you understand? I said go back," he said as he took a step forward.

He wanted to be alone, that much she understands. However, she also understands the fact there are times that no matter how much someone wanted to hide, a little company wouldn't hurt. Somehow, she felt that this was one of those moments.

"Oh come on," she muttered as she moved past him. "Don't be stingy with your walkers."

She could instantly feel him roll his eyes at her.

Fortunately for her, Daryl had an extra flashlight to spare. If it was hard to stab walkers in the day, double that effort in the night and triple it without a light. Randomly hitting without knowing where the mouth is after all a pretty _undeadly_ task.

Each stab was as exhausting as the other and she could feel sleep crawling up on her. However, the man beside her knew none of that for each hit was as hate-driven as the previous one.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Nothing," he grunted while pulling out the knife plunged deep into the walker's skull.

"Hmmm, if you say so. But you know," she paused as she struck a knife through the undead's eye. "For what's it worth, these walkers didn't have to do with it."

The words were out of her mouth before fully realizing the weight of it.

"How do you know?" he snapped.

"I—"

"You weren't there. You didn't see whose the walker that ripped off Zack," he added.

She heard the run had gone south that day and she also heard about Zack's demise. But she didn't expect his outburst as she stood there, eyes widened in worry.

"Why don't you just go back to your cell and quit whinin' about mosquitoes," he said. "And be glad that you've survived this far!"

The last word out of his mouth and she immediately saw him soften his features. But as for her, she stood her ground and looked at him as passively as she can. And without even looking, she plunged her blade down at a random walker's skull or she thinks was the skull.

"I am ecstatic," she said.

When she pulled out the knife, the sound of body hitting the ground filled in the silence while Daryl just stood there and looked at her with his passive face.

"Aren't you?" she added.

She knew she was at fault. However, he didn't have to make it seem like living was such a bad thing, that her living right then and there was somebody's forced decision.

To sum it up, she was irritated as hell.

"Here," she said with a weak smile as she handed him back his flashlight. "I'm going ahead. I'm tired."

When he didn't say a word, she added in a soft tone.

"And I am truly sorry about Zack. I only knew him for a week but he was a good guy. He didn't deserve it."

Without even bothering for a reply, she turned around and paced herself down back to the prison.

"Night Daryl!" she shouted as she did a quick wave high up in the air.

* * *

By the time she reached her cell, she immediately dropped dead on her bed. She was exhausted and she wanted to go to sleep but her mind kept going back to what Daryl had said.

_ '__Be glad that you've survived this far!'_

"Yeah," she scoffed.

_'Daryl freaking Dixon.'_

Of course she was glad. Who wouldn't be? It may be a harsh world but survivors meant they were strong. And that meant she was strong too. She killed walkers. She was strong. She wasn't alive just because of anybody's forced decision. She was alive because it was her choice to be alive.

With that, thoughts ran endlessly in her mind that kept her up for minutes- the box, Daryl, pre-apocalypse.

When she had enough watching the stale ceiling and in an effort to force herself to sleep despite the nagging mosquitoes, she put an arm over her eyes.

_ '__Be glad that you've survived this far!'_

"Yeah," she broke out into a soft sob and eventually cried herself to sleep.

* * *

She knew the shouts too well. It was the shouts of the dying. And even though she was still a bit groggy, she immediately got hold of her knife and sprinted outside.

"What's-!" she attempted to ask but the chaos from down below was straight out from a nightmare.

"Help!"

"Somebody help!"

'_A breach?'_

Then suddenly she heard dragging footsteps by the stairs. When she turned around, she saw a man limping towards her with gouged eyes and covered in blood.

"Patrick," she said, stifling a sob.

His snarls were getting louder and he stretched out an arm trying to reach her. But she got a hold of her knife and without hesitation struck it deep right down his forehead.

"I'm sorry," she said while pulling her knife back. She did not even wait to see him fall down the floor as she made a move towards the others.

Then gunshots rang out.

"Go! Get out of here!" she heard a shout. From the gruff tone of his voice, she guessed it was Rick.

She pushed herself against the crowd and came face to face of what has become of their sanctuary- worn out gray cement now decorated with the blood of its inhabitants.

"Get away from me!" she heard a man shout. When he looked at his direction, sure enough, two hungry walkers had trapped him against the corner.

She ran for his aid but it was too late. They had already devoured him starting from the neck while the other went for his stomach.

"No!" she shouted as she drove her blade down its head and then to the other.

By the time she looked down at the elderly man, he was as lifeless as the two walkers. Fresh blood was still oozing out from his wounds and guts spilling out from it. She knew he hadn't had long before he reanimates so she did what was best. She knelt down and felt the scrunching noise of skull and nerves as it made way for her blade.

"Andy!"

When she faced the direction of the voice, the sight of a walker falling head first unto the floor startled her. Fortunately for her, it already had an arrow protruding from its head.

"You alright?" Daryl asked as he made his way towards her. He then immediately took hold of her hand and did a quick inspection.

"Yeah, what the hell happened?" she asked with a huff.

"You sure?"

But before she could even reply, Rick's voice filled the whole block.

"Are we clear down here? We're safe?" he shouted.

"Yeah, yeah!" she heard Sasha replied with a pant.

"Go see Hershel," Daryl mumbled as he ran for the stairs.

She looked at his retreating back and wandered her eyes of what was left from the chaos. The image of the aftermath was no different from before. Bodies were everywhere with pools of blood surrounding them.

"Oh it's Patrick," Daryl's voice resounded from the second floor, shaking her off of her trance. As she looked at their direction, Glenn along with Rick, were hunched over Patrick's body. The one that she so ruthlessly killed. The one that was once her friend.

"That's all of 'em," he added as he let his eyes stray at her way.

But then, he furrowed his eyebrows seemingly asking what she was still doing there.

As if in reply, she lowered her head and did what she was supposed to do. After all, finding Hershel might be the best thing at that moment if not only for her own selfish reasons of assuring herself that she too can be of some real help.

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I see Andy as this whole bubble of conflicting emotions so yeah!

End of chapter 4! yaay! Hope you like it and review :)

Next up? Do you remember the flu?


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